


The White Swallow

by fan_go_round



Series: AU's by yours truely [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Pidge, Bisexual Lance, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Business Student!Keith, Business man!shiro, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dildos, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance is a MILF magnet pass it on, Langst, M/M, MILF, Minor Lance/oc - Freeform, Multi, Porn With Plot, Riding, Safe-sex, Sex Shop AU, Size Difference, Top Keith (Voltron), Top Lance (Voltron), Top Shiro (Voltron), Vibrators, Wax Play, Yoga teacher!lance, college student!keith, creampie - mention, he is a mama's boy, i mean the happy ending is coming but itll take awhile, if you get what I mean, like its legit barely 2k, sugar daddy!shiro, unprotected sex, very light bdsm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8863117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fan_go_round/pseuds/fan_go_round
Summary: Lance, a part-time yoga teacher, gets taken into a relationship with a soon to be business major and a full on sugar daddy. As Lance dives deeper into a new love triangle, he learns that there is more to a relationship than sex, who a better teacher than Keith and Shiro?





	1. Invitations

**Author's Note:**

> Ok ok ok, I know I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. Kay hates being rick-rolled so I just saw the chance and took it. Anyways, this is the actual fic. Probably going to be a whole fucking novel by the time it's done, due to the random headcanons that pop up at the most inappropriate times (when I'm in class). This all started out a few months (? I lost track of time so let's say a few months) when I was super tired and eating chicken nuggets. Over the course of a few weeks, a small headcanon encounter turned into this.

It started out as a joke. Nothing more than slurred giggles and meaningless words. Using some obscure holiday as a reason to get piss drunk with the gang. No one was composed; bodies were lounging around the couch area, and food wrappers were strewn across the table.

“For real Allura, that’s the worst gift idea-” Pidge mumbled before getting cut off by the older member. She was laying across Hunk's lap, wine glass in hand, tilting it to point at everyone in the room.

“I said it once, I will say it again,” she paused to take a large sip of her drink, “I want the biggest, baddest dong you can find. The bigger, the better.”

 

Allura probably forgot about that claim the next morning. Heck, she didn’t even remember picking up a glass. Pidge, however, rarely forgets. That brilliant mind is an organized chaos of connections, capable of deciphering code, deconstructing any electronic then telling us the exact roles of different parts.

That’s how Lance ended up here; hands freezing, even in the pockets of his older bomber jacket. Neon lights reflected of Pidge’s big rim glasses, adding to the evil grin plastered on their face. 'The White Swallow' was written in an overly fancy cursive font. The type that you would see on a shitty graphic design ad. The windows were blocked out, only a few painted words gave away the building’s true nature.

Lance and Pidge stepped into a harshly lit room. They both didn’t know what to expect; maybe latex suits greeting them at the door questionable stains on the floor. Instead, the store was empty and the isles were displaying a multitude of different merchandise. The front desk was occupied by a dark head of hair, too busy to greet the incoming customers.

“Mmm?” the young adult without looking up from the sprawled out notes. He had thick eyelashes and even thicker bangs. The tip of his pen was lightly tapping his pale lips.

“I’m here to talk to a,” Pidge paused and looked over their phone, “Ta-ka-shee, uh She-ro-gane? He should be expecting us.” The cashier lifted himself off the counter and rolled his eyes, like a sassy spoiled child.

“Takashi! There is a … gremlin and a string-bean here for you,” He yelled into the back room. There was a faint reply before the cashier turned back to his studies.

The silence was almost strangling as they waited. Pidge was pre-occupied with something on their phone, while Lance shifted from foot to foot.

“Sooo, uh,” he started, hoping to break the silence, “Do you have a name or is ‘Mullet’ OK?”

“Keith, and my hair isn’t a mullet, String-Bean.” The comment came through clenched teeth. The pen went from innocent taps to possible weapon as Keith’s grip tightened.

It took a few more moments for ‘Takashi’ to make an appearance, but when Lance first took a glance, he wishes he had more of a forewarning. He stepped out of the room; hair slicked back, a few white strands escaped the gelling process. A light scar ran across the bridge of his nose, emphasizing his steel Grey eyes and dark eyelashes. Lance bit his tongue, partially to control himself from making a stupid comment, partially to stop him from licking his lips. Next to the man’s Captain America sized arms, the Latino was a string bean.

“Sorry for the wait Ms. Holt,” Takashi extended his right arm for a handshake.

“I prefer Pidge, actually.” Lance continued to stare at the man, as his partner rambled off about some tech stuff. The man was completely juiced, and his suit brought an emphasis on the movements of his sturdy build.

“This is Lance,” the sound of his name snapped him back into reality. The taller man stepped towards him and extended his arm. Questions ran through Lance’s head when he spotted the artificial limb. ‘ _It’s fake? Fake. Ok fake is totally normal_.’ He looked up at the man, then back at his extended arm, up, down, up, down.

“Lance McClain,” he shook it vigorously, “part-time yoga teacher, full-time meme lord.” Lance smiled awkwardly when he realized what left his mouth. His companion, however, pinched the bridge of their nose and shook their head.

“Shiro,” the man said after he chuckled. Shiro tightened his grip before leading them to a consulting table. The surface was a cheap plastic, and the side was piled with sample pallets and binders. They sat down facing him, who unbuttoned his suit before joining them.

“You said you wanted something ‘large and in-charge’,” Shiro raised an eyebrow as he looked over his notes.

“It is not for me, well, it's a joke or a gift, if you were wondering” Pidge adjusted their glasses. Lance poked at one of the samples, watching it sway back and forth.

Both visitors opened the binders and browsed through the laminated pages. Each showcased a different design, ribbed, life-like, pretty much any type imaginable. Lance blindly looked through the pages, partially due to the sheer amount, partially from the cashiers glare. He turned around and met Keith’s gaze, studying the heavy scowl and pursed lips that graced his porcelain skin.

“Keith, study. I don't think your exam is easy,” Shiro said with a hint of annoyance. A third person joined the stare off; Keith’s eyes switched from blue to grey. He shot a dirty look towards Lance, before reluctantly turning back to his papers. They sat in silence while Pidge continued to through the thick binder, before they pointed out a design.

“This one.” Pidge tapped the laminated picture a few times, a sly grin plastered across their face. The page featured a sketch, a crude one to be exact. Lance bit his lip in concern. It had a large base, and thick ribs running up the shaft. A bulbous head and knot threatened to set the dildos off balance.

“You sure?” Lance raised an eyebrow at Pidge’s grotesque choice. What would Allura even do with this? The whole thing must have been as thick as Lance's wrist, presumably a bit much for the team princess. Even Shiro looked a bit concerned with the choice, but he shrugged off any questions. He jotted down notes in his book, before looking up at the two.

“Any specific color palette, since it is a special order, it'll be free.” Pidge and Lance answered immediately, as if they rehearsed it.

“Pink.” Shiro smiled and shook his head, letting out a sigh at their enthusiasm. He quickly added to his notes, tearing the paper out of his note pad. His eyes quickly looked over the paper before holding up in the air.

“Keith, mind getting this order?” Shiro waved the slip in the air to get the others' attention. Keith, however, didn’t move. Not even an upward glance. Shiro’s eyebrows creased.

“Kogane. Don’t make me ask again.” The hairs on Lance’s neck prickled at the man’s dominant voice; he was almost afraid to turn and look at him.

“Make the String-Bean do it, since he seemed to catch your attention,” the cashier replied, nearly drowned out by the loud drone of the AC. Shiro let out a loud exhale, which could be heard by the two customers.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Lance, was it,” Lance nodded his head at the mention of his name, “could you take this to Keith. I’ll talk to him later.” Shiro passed the slip of paper to smaller hands as Lance stood up. He turned and walked towards the front desk, glancing down and scanned over the paper; it was full of circles. Circles and lines to be precise. ‘ _How do you even read this? Left to right? Right to left? Top to bottom?_ '

When Lance stopped in front of the desk, the student was still engrossed in his notes. He quickly scribbled script on the side of his paper, similar to the ones that littered the slip in his hand. Lance observed him for a few moments. Keith ran his hand through his hair and ruffled the mullet till it was an utter mess.

“Fuck me, this is hard,” Keith muttered, still not aware of the person in front of him. The Cuban smirked and shook his head. He leaned over the counter, closing in on the teen’s ear. This mullet kid is making it too easy.

“That can be arranged. Call me, and I promise I can be harder.” It came out low, even surprising Lance on how well it slid across his tongue. Keith’s head shot up, almost hitting Lance in the nose. Eyes wide and a light blush forming across his cheeks, he stared at Lance before giving him a dirty look.

Lance handed over the slip, and tilted his head to get a look at the kid’s notes. There were graphs, random symbols, and a shit ton of words.

“Whatcha studying?” Lance continued to scan over the papers.

“Stuff,” Keith didn’t look up from the screen.

“What stuff.”

“Business-stuff”

“Do tell me more,” Lance leaned on the counter, propping himself up on an elbow.

“Business - where I learn to control a person through buying habits in hopes of improving revenue and getting the population to buy more - stuff,” Keith paused his typing and looked up, “what do you care String-Bean?” Keith sucked his teeth and looked back at the computer screen.

“Uh, the name’s Lance,” he raised an eyebrow at the other’s comment.

He turned the screen towards the waiting customer. Everything seemed to check out. Lance nodded his head as Keith turned the screen back. Pidge and Shiro stood up from the table and started to make their way over.

“Cash or Credit,” Keith asked as he held out his hand. Lance looked blankly at the open palm. Pidge place a card in the waiting hand,

“I got this, you can pay me back with breakfast.” They flashed a smile towards Lance as he rolled his eyes and leaned further on the counter. Shiro joined Keith behind the counter, patted Keith on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He turned slightly and glanced at the speaker before nodding his head. This was the first time that the two saw the cashier smile. His lips pulled up at the corners and his eyes seemed to sparkle.

“The order should arrive by this time,” Shiro grabbed a red pen and circles a few areas, “also call if you have any questions.” He handed the receipt over to Pidge, along with their card. They looked over the printed paper and shoved them both into their wallet. Pidge and Lance said their thanks and headed towards to the door, with the smaller in the lead.

“Oh Lance,” Shiro stopped him as he went to follow his companion. The older male quickly jotted down some words, folded the paper and handed it to him. Keith looked Lance up and down, before scoffing and going back to his studies, as the customer turned to leave as well.

“You really did it?” Keith asked not even watching the door close behind the customers, a smirk hidden by his hair. He never doubted Shiro would follow through with such a plan, but the spontaneousness of the ploy.

“Do you have any objections? I know you've probably been eyeing him since he walked in,” Shiro started to stack the papers strewn over the counter top. He taped the group of papers onto the hard surface and handed them to Keith, “Now it's just a waiting game to see if he replies.”


	2. Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge is my baby, I love them so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. The scholar gods have been good to me (that's a lie, I've been procrastinating like a BITCH) and I bear a new chapter for all y'all.

The air outside rushed past Lance’s face as he forced open the doors; snowflakes danced around him, before taking their place on the ground or in his hair. The temperature dropped. A severe shitty nose dive into the below freezing zone. Pidge wasn’t that far ahead. It only took Lance a few strides to catch up to his shorter friend who was barely making it through the snow. He shoved the note into his jean pocket and bent down in front of his companion.

“Does a certain satanic child require a lift?” Usually, a comment like that would deserve a punch in the arm, but living with Lance rendered his cheeky jabs ineffective. They didn’t even give a solid reply; just a slight grunt as Pidge draped themselves over the tall male’s shoulders. There was little stress on Lance’s limbs as he straightened to his full height.

Pidge’s breathing slowed down till it seemed they were asleep, only slight humming came from their tiny frame. Lance laughed and adjusted his arms around Pidge’s legs; even slouched over to shift the body higher up his back. Their apartment was only a few blocks away from the shop, a 20-minute walk at the most but the outside weather forced Lance to slow down; calling him to enjoy the biting wind that made his eyes water and watch the hypnotizing snowfall around him.

Pidge’s watch beeped, reminding them both of how deep into the night they were. Snow banks stopped growing by the time they arrived at their building. There were only a few windows decorated for the upcoming holidays, flashing lights, snowflake cutouts, and even the odd stockings hung on the fire escape window. Climbing up several flights of stairs was an arduous task. Lance tried to limit any jostling of the sleeping body on his shoulder, but his efforts didn’t seem to help. Pidge nuzzled their face further into the thick hoodie of Lance’s jacket.

“Hey, wake up Pidgey,” Lance said as he came up the landing. Pidge groaned and rubbed their eyes under their fogged glasses. They climbed off of the other’s back and held the wall for balance, as Lance rummaged in his pockets for keys.

The door clicked softly as they stepped into the warmed apartment. A dim light from a small fish tank lit the small kitchenette, casting eerie shadows against the wall. City lights shone through the window, sparkling behind a layer of fogged glass. The small space was filled with the sound of the two taking off their layers, and hanging them on some chairs.

“You going to take a shower or is the bathroom mine for the night?” Lance asked after he pulled his shirt over his back. By the time he popped his head out, Pidge was already down the hall, half of their clothes off in a trail behind them. Lance took that as a ‘go ahead’ and walked to their cramped bathroom.

It wasn’t anything special. A sink with an illegally small amount of counter space, crummy shower with a clear curtain and a shitty toilet that surprisingly works. The room smelled of cheap bleach, soon of hard water as Lance turned the tarnished faucet.

The blessing of hot water was hard to enjoy especially when you have to fight your neighbor for it in the mornings, but at this time, it was all his. Lance’s head barely cleared the low shower head; if he wanted, to he could touch it by standing on his toes. Oh, the woes of a hard knock life.

The warmth was short-lived. The spout started to shake and sputter before a full jet of icy water struck Lance’s back.

“ _Pechos de Los Muertos_!”  A quick stream of more curses left his mouth, accompanied by the sound of wet slipping. Lance ungracefully slide down the enamel tub with his hands wildly trying to grip the tiled walls. He ended up on the floor of the tub, legs splayed and hair covering the top of his eyes and cold water continued to sap the heat from his body.

After some trouble getting his gangly limbs out of the tub and turning off the piss stream of Jack Frost, Lance wrapped himself in a robe of clouds. One of the few things that he splurged on and still has no regrets about. 20 dollars well spent in his opinion, even if it leads to the constant teasing from his housemate.

Lance tiredly trudged to his bedroom with his clothes slung over his shoulder. The living room was a mess of Pidge’s discarded clothes. Their coat on the couch, shirt on the floor, a pair of pants, socks and…everything in between, binder and all, leading to Lance’s room.

“Oh hell no,” Lance quickened his pace and threw open the door. Lo and behold, a disheveled bed, and a puffy mess of hair barely peeking over his thick covers. The male stood at the foot of his bed while glowering at the sleeping form. He pulled the sheets off Pidge, who curled up in response to the temperature change.

“Out”

“Piss off”

“Out of my room”

“It's m’apartmen',” Pidge slurred before rolling over. Lance’s shorts barely clung to their slimmer hips, and dark circles graced their eyes. They had a point.

“Well, then, go to your room”

“It’s cold, and you were late on the bill. I’m staying,” Pidge’s hands blindly grasped at the cover and tugged them back over their body, “you still owe me for paying your share.” Their head disappeared back under the sea of blankets with a grumble before going silent. Lance’s face held a slight frown as they continued to stare at the occupied bed.

The clock near his bed beeped, mocking him about his horrendous sleep schedule. There was no real point in fighting them, Lance does owe Pidge a few of favors, most mundane, but favors all the same.

He climbed in next to the shorter person, surprised at the amount of heat lingering under covers. There was just the sound of level breathing and ticks. Tick tick, the minutes passed by with sleep eluding him. He sat up and reached for his pants laying on the edge of the bed, rummaging the pockets before grasping the once forgotten paper.

 

_ 202-309-1000 _

_Someone would like_

_to take up your promise~_

 

It was written haphazardly, some letters smudged before the ink could dry, but still legible. Lance’s hands froze as he read over the note a few more times. It seemed like a trick. Maybe some spur of the moment ploy to take him in and spit him out. He balled up the paper and tossed towards the overflowing trash pile in the corner. Pidge let out a muffled grumble as Lance threw himself back to the pillows.

 

 

By the time the sun was shining through the closed drapes, Pidge still hadn’t moved. Lance, however, was repaying last night's debt. If the smell of food didn’t awaken them, they were likely dead. Being that Pidge mainly relies on Lance for sustenance and never turns down a food offering, them skipping a meal would be a concern.

Food was never a real problem, but cooking it was. The most advanced thing Lance can make is french toast and some simple homemade dishes, Pidge was the lost cause. It’s even gotten to the point where they were banned from being in the kitchen at Allura’s. Their excuse? _‘Wouldn’t it be cool to fuse the cells of an egg with ham so you can have ham flavored eggs? We wouldn't even need all this shit,’_ they say as they forget about the food on the stove.

As quick as Pavlov’s dog, the sound of Lance mixing up a box of batter brought out a long groan from his roommate. It was a long groan, the amount of air that came out is probably equal to their total mass. There was rustling before Pidge appeared, wrapped in a blanket.

“Mornin’ star-shine!” There were just mumbles and the sound of scuffling as they retrieved their clothes. Not a coherent reply in the slightest.

“I said ‘good morning’ you little shit”

“Morning ends at 12, it's 1. Go to work,” Pidge pointed at the clock as they sat on a stool.

“Make me.” Lance barely got the words past his lips before a sock flew above his head, hit the wall and landed on the stove top. Few more things flew across the space separating them, most hitting their intended target. They didn't phase the cook; Lance continued to stack the pancakes as they came off the hot stove.

“You don’t have work, do you.” The sentence made Lance pause, as his spatula lifted another cake off the pan.

“I mean,” he bit his tongue, trying to figure out how to phrase his sentence, “I do. Not permanent, but it pays. Y’know, call basis; I get a call, I do my job, I get paid.”

“So you didn’t look at the rec I gave,” Pidge rubbed the bridge of their nose, “you’ve been freeloading me for the past, like, 3 months now.” Lance slammed the plate onto the countertop in front of them.

“Yes, I know, I know. No one will take a drop out as their marketer. I’ve been doin’ what I can OK? I don’t got all the brains in the world like you.” There was a pause before Pidge took a bite of their food.

“All I’ve heard for the past 5 years, all a bunch of a crap,” Lance’s voice raised in volume, “‘Oh you could do it if you apply yourself’ or ‘put yourself out there, you'll do great’. All a load of no good bullshit advice.” He hunched over his plate, staring at the steam rising from the hot food.

“Talk to that kid then.”

“What kid” 

“The one from last night. You know,” Pidge flattened their hair till it covered their eyes, “I’m sooooo emo, UGH, don't talk to me”

“Queef?”

“Yeah, something like that. Call him.” Lance raised an eyebrow at their suggestion.

“Why would I want to call him of all people?”

“He's a business major, Shiro is a Business major. You can be a threesome of business bros”

“Trio.”

“Threesome, trio, same same,” Pidge waved their arm to dismiss the stray topic, “You might be in a position to get some advice or connections or whatever.”

“I don’t have their number.” Lance quickly filled his mouth to avoid answering anything else.

“Just go back and ask them.”

“No”

“Come onnnnnn-.”

“You know what. Fine! I’ll do it! OK? I’ll go!” Pidge leaned over and pat his puffy hair. More stroking than petting. Lance blinked.

“What are you doing?”

“You finally listened, so _Buen Perra_ ," it came out in a crude replication of Lance’s accent, but it was still understandable. 2 years together does leave their mark on someone.

Lance’s phone rang from somewhere across their apartment. Probably under a pile of laundry or god knows where. He shot Pidge a dirty look before walking around the counter, ruffling their hair as he passed.

In the privacy of his own room, Lance answered the phone.

“Good morning, Lance here. Yeah. Yes, ma’am. Of course! No need to apologize, you stick to your plans.” Lance sat on his bed as the conversation dragged on. “And the kids? That’s great! Ok! Tomorrow, right? See you then.”

 


	3. Red Dwarfs and Blue Giants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Keith shine bright enough to keep Shiro's attention or will a new star steal his light?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeahh... I'm back with chapter 3. I guess I'll give you a quick update about my life:  
> -I graduated  
> -I got a job  
> -I got hit by a car
> 
> I wrote some porn for y'all as a way to ask for forgiveness for my horrible procrastination.

The desk lamp would be blinding to anyone walking in from the darkness, but for Keith, it was just enough to shadow the distractions around him. Well, that was a lie in of itself; his eyes burned from the constant staring, and being that coffee has been his fuel for the past 4 hours, Keith was beyond exhausted. He felt his back ache, and his mind begin to fog with thoughts other than the charts in front of him.                     

 His thoughts manifested itself as him. The free spirit from the sex shop with his stupid ass grin and scraggly appearance. Lance’s overconfidence and egocentric actions, everything about him made Keith’s blood pressure skyrocket. What did he have? What did a pair of too tight jeans and a hand-me-down jacket have that caught Shiro’s eye? It's that smile, that smile could take anyone on a journey. Maybe it was his voice, the way his ‘r’s rolled off his tongue or… maybe there was something that Keith lacked.                         

 The words replayed in his mind, the ones that he wrote off so easily. “ _There’s another, just waiting to be shaped_.” Shaped, like a piece of limp and useless clay. Shaped, like an item that wasn't worth shit. That’s all he must be to the world; a piece of clay that can be thrown away if he didn't turn out perfect.                            

 It was late, beyond late, and Shiro hasn’t given any sort of clue on when he would be back. Keith’s fingers ran through his hair and scratched the phantoms of worry away. The vultures were already circling overhead, ready to pick off the remains of the overworked student. Him attempting a business major was eating him alive, but maybe it won’t be so bad, especially with Shiro by his side. This wasn’t his plan for life; getting caught up in a messy relationship with the head of a business tycoon in exchange for a guaranteed position. This was a mere accident, a dumb one to be exact.                             

 Keith’s eyes started to water while his hand vigorously rubbed them. It could be worse for him; Keith could juggle 3 jobs and college like his peers. But since he has the Alumni of his class helping him through this bog of bullshit, and not to mention pay for his class, he might live to see the end of it. As he stretched and twisted his back, the sound of popping echoed off the empty room.                                  

 “I heard that.” Shiro was home, finally. There was some shuffling as he made his way down the dark hallway. The sound of another living human being was enough to make Keith long for contact.                                 

 “I’m surprised you’re up this late,” there was the sound of the other shrugging off articles of clothing. It was late, but Keith isn't going to admit anything.            

 “I just want to get ahead, okay?” He couldn’t look Shiro in the eye at this point; he tried. He tried to look back into the stormy gray.  

“Keith? Trying to get ahead? This is a first,” Shiro leaned onto the back of the chair. He seemed to breathe down the student’s neck, the light puffs of air raised goose bumps and hair with a shiver that traveled the ridge of his back. “It’s testing season, no need to get ahead now. It’s not like you to _try_ in your sciences,” he breathed out in emphasis.

“You obviously don’t know how much I try.”     

“Oh, is that so?” Shiro leaned over more, his chin almost rested on Keith’s shoulder. The space between them could be closed with one simple movement, but something made Keith want to push him away.    

"Yes, that’s _so_.”     

“What has your panties in a twist, _gongjunim_ ,” he used the name that he hated. Princess. What did a sailor-mouthed, foul-tempered kid like him have to do with a do-nothing, expect-everything figurehead? Keith turned in his chair and stood up. He was a good few inches shorter, and a more than a few pounds lighter, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to stand a chance against him.

“You. _You_ and your goddamn need to ‘fix’ everyone. Maybe if _you_ weren't so insecure about your position we wouldn’t have this problem,” Keith felt everything boil over. Mr. Long Legs worming his way into their life, school downing him further into the hellhole of the business world, and the envious eyes of his peers as if he was handed a high position on a silver platter. They all bubbled out into his mind, making everything unravel into a mess of hatred and anguish.

 “You know it’s not like that Keith.” Shiro’s voice softened as if it would melt the younger like butter. Melt the frozen barrier around him, making him soft and pliable under his expertise, turning him into anything he can imagine. “I saw the same thing in him that I saw in you, I’m just trying-”

 “Why would you think that _Lance_ has any potential?” Shiro was interrupted by the student. The air felt thick with tension as Keith let his mind spill into the air between them. All the worries that plagued his mind spread throughout his body and infected his tongue. “What was it? Did he look like a new _plaything_? Is that what you are now? A sour old man that wishes to build a fucking harem of boys, like those fuckers with their trophy wives?” Keith pushed him back. Shiro just looked at his apprentice unravel in front of him.

“Are you scared?” It was a simple question. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would suffice.

“What does that have to do with this?” Keith’s tried to calm his rapid breathing and fleeting anxieties.

“Are you scared that someone will finally out shine you?”

“No,” there was a few moments of silence before a monotoned answer was said. Keith’s lips remained parted, like the thorns of his own words were caught in his throat and threatened to tear him apart if he let them escape.

"Then what is it?” Shiro stepped closer, and asked again, "then tell me what your problem is."

"Nothing," Keith answered with a whisper, and turned back to his chair, "I have better things to do than to this." He sat down and returned to the charts in front of him. Keith’s breaths were heavy but silent, mimicking the fears that crept their way into his conscience.

Shiro walked out of the room, leaving him alone, again. Alone with the looming monster of the human body in all its complexity. Alone with the possibility of him failing the exam, meaning more time spent in the same class with a bunch of potheads and slackers.

Keith hated the human body, the names that blurred into a jumbled mess of letters, and the idea of this having no connection with his chosen major made the whole subject a waste of his time. He threw his head back to hit the head rest and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m getting somethin’ to eat,” Shiro's voice came from down the hall, accompanied by the sound of the creaky door hinges, “please get to bed. It’s late.”

“Make me,” Keith managed to squeeze in before the door closed behind his partner. He didn’t move from the chair. Keith was tempted to just sit there, and wait till Shiro got back to go to bed. It was a tempting plan, but the silence was a sticky snare. The chair became oh so comfy and it seemed to tie his tired head back. The light from his lamp was the only way to keep Keith awake, but even that slowly faded to black.

 

* * *

 

There was a small shake of the shoulder that made Keith choke on his own breath. He lurched awake and wiped the evidence of sleep from the corner of his mouth.

“Wha-” Keith looked around before he focused on Shiro. He was leaning on the desk at the hip, tie loose around his neck, and arms crossed over his chest.

“So, its anatomy that has you all strung up?” Shiro looked through a notebook that once lay open on the desk, before sighing, “you could have asked for help.”

“And get booted out of our deal?”

“What, do I look like a slave-driver, Keith? What did I do when you fell behind in your other classes?”

Keith mumbled something under his breath, he didn't even know what he said before it left his lips.

“I helped you, I even took time off to tutor you. And you still think I'll drop you like a lost pup? Keith, you’re smarter than that” There was a hint of sternness in Shiro’s voice, or was it disappointment? Whatever laced his words, it hurt like knives.

“Yeah whatever.” Keith laid his head back again and looked at the ceiling. “Are you going to help me or not.” Shiro didn’t reply, but there was the sound of plastic that made Keith perk up. It was quite a big bag, holding an array of thick candles, all white in color.

“A dinner date isn’t studying Shiro.” Keith lolled his head to the side and watched as the other stood up and slide the tie out of the knot. The sound of the silk slipping out from its confines was soon covered by Shiro’s voice.

“We got our first shipment for the shop. We try every product be-fore we sell” Keith chimed in at the last words. Those words are what the shop was built on; most, if not all the products were tried by the duo at some point in time. This will be new for Keith, but he doubts Shiro hasn’t dabbled in the domain of temperature play before. What hasn’t the man done?

A click of the lamp drowned the room in the dimness of the moonbeams. Keith moved to get up, before he felt pressure on his shoulder, pushing him back to his seat.

“We’re going to do a little bit of a ‘test’,” the word came out with a chuckle. “What’s our word?”

“Rhubarb.” The words didn’t hang in the air for long before the kiss of silk was felt on the bridge of Keith’s nose. He lifted his head, allowing the other to secure it in place.

“You better not call him in then. You should be the only one feeling the burn.” A hand traced down Keith’s arm, drifting over the wisps of hair on porcelain skin, before taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

It was a trek to get down the hall, filled with stumbles and giggles from both as they navigated the dark corridor. They knew the way by heart, they’ve traveled down these halls more times than the spots on the moon, some with intents on enjoying each other’s company, others with the desire to enjoy each other’s bodies. The world was just a swirl of touches and sounds: the soft carpet underfoot, the chill of Shiro’s prosthetic, the distant but curious meows from the other room. It all blurred together, turning into a smoothie of stimuli.

Then they stopped, more of Keith bumping into Shiro at what he is guessing, the bedroom.

“Strip” That was the only word that left Shiro’s lips. It was nothing new, the word has graced the room and Keith's thoughts so many times, that there wasn’t any hesitation. He slid his fingers down the thin fabric of his shirt till he felt a hint of skin, and paused before hooking his shorts with his thumbs. The elastic band slipped over his hips, catching on his hardening cock, before falling down the length of his leg. Anticipation, the unknown and promise of release, all lingered in this situation, making his mind and pulse race.

Keith cracked his thumbs as he brought them back to his sides; the hem of his shirt danced with every breath and teased his frozen fingers. It was a second, maybe two, maybe three before there was another sound from Shiro. It was the light sound of him turning, his feet shifting on the carpet, and the feeling of his hand on Keith’s hips.

“Do you want to back out?” There wasn’t a hint of a challenge in his voice. It was soft, concerned, understanding, everything that kept them afloat in the world, but was everything Keith wanted to drown in.

Keith thumbed the ends of his shirt, before taking it in his fist. His shoulders popped as he brought it up to his head, and as he dragged the shirt over his face he got a glimpse of the room. The room was… messy to put it in the lightest, there was a dim flicker of a candle and the accompaniment of a lamp’s constant glow. That was all Keith could take in before the tie fell over his eyes again, blacking the world out.

The hand traced up his skin, causing a shiver to follow suit. They brushed over the hills and valleys of his ribs and journeyed across the ridge of his collarbone before stopping.

“Right here,” Shiro’s finger tapped the skin gently, “platysma.” Keith heard Shiro step closer, and his hand trace over his shoulder, and stopping. Shiro’s lips sucked at the skin where he pointed out, and Keith’s head lulled to the side, enjoying the contact between them. He felt starved of affection. He knew that there was going to be a mark left there, that’s just an unneeded addition to their relationship.

Heavy breaths fanned across the wet skin, as he whispered another word into his neck.

“Trapezius.” Shiro’s fingers traced from his shoulder blade to his neck.

“L-like the circus.” Keith didn't realize how dry his mouth was, or that his jaw was slack as he struggled to take deep breaths. There was a heavy puff of air from Shiro when he made the verbal connection.

“Yes, like the circus.” Shiro continued naming more muscles of the body; deltoid, latissimus dorsi, external oblique, he traveled down his back then to his front naming and kissing every muscle along the way. He finally stopped after the words swam aimlessly, and Keith’s mind was drunk off the teasing touches. The light smell of smoke filled the room.

“What’s the name of this,” Shiro tapped the area under Keith’s arm on his ribs. Nothing made its way to his tongue, just labored breaths and tangles words.

“Anterior,” Keith tried to get himself started, it was on the tip of his tongue, “serratus”. The last letters trailed off to a murmur.

“Good.” Shiro’s voice raspy in his ear. Keith’s knees nearly buckled when he felt a light touch on the underside of his cock, and a few sickly slow tugs. His heart raced as he tried to stop a light moan from escaping, it just came out as a whimper. Then the hands were gone, as quick as they came, and positioned themselves on other parts of Keith’s body. His back, he shoulders, his neck, everywhere they were before. Each correct answer earned Keith a few moments of pleasure, and before long, they made it through the first group.  Shiro pulled him further into the

Shiro pulled him further into the room and walked Keith back till he the bed hit the back of his knees. The two moved up onto the softness till Shiro sat between Keith's opened legs, just out of reach.

“Open up further. There, beautiful.” His voice could coax Keith into any position. Shiro nipped the inside of his thigh.

“Adductor Longus.” Keith nearly snapped his legs around Shiro’s head as he nipped closer to his groin, but a pair of hands kept them open to the world. Another list of words: Pectineus, Iliac, Rectus Femoris, Gracilis, they all slide off Shiro’s tongue like silk, as if he recited them at every waking moment.

“Name this one,” his finger traced from his hip to the inside of his knee.

“Medialis”. There wasn’t any contact that Keith craved, not a sound.

“Wrong.” that was the only reply he got before a hot fluid dripped onto his skin.  Keith arched his back, as he felt the wax slowly paint a trail of warmth down his inner thigh. The bed dipped as Shiro resettled over him.

“S-sa-rt-torius” His mind raced while his tongue felt as slow as the cooling wax. The pain ebbed away slowly as wet, warmth made its way down his erection. Keith’s thighs twitched, tempted to trap Shiro right where he wanted him. His lips made its way down to the base, allowing the tip to touch the back of his throat. Keith groaned, his fingers brushing down to rest on the top of Shiro’s head, and laced down to the buzz of his undercut. That's when his mouth slowly slid up to the head, sucking the head before kissing it.

“You’re not allowed to cum, can you do that for me, princess?” Shiro whispered into Keith’s ear, before calling out the next muscle, allowing him to drown in attention and pleasure.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith glanced over the paper before walking into the hallway. It was empty, and he managed to grab an early morning appointment before his other classes. His body ached and he felt like there was a massive stick up his ass, well it’s not too far from what happened.

 

He peeked into the tiny window on the door and saw the professor sitting at her desk, long white hair tied up in a bun, glasses barely hanging on to the edge of her nose. Hell, if she had a cloak and pointy hat she could make it as a witch during Halloween. Keith knocked on the wooden door and opened it when he saw her look up from her work.

“Ah Keith, you’re early, as usual.”

“Yeah, I have some other classes. I don’t want to be late for them.” Keith took a last look at his page of names, before slipping it into his back pocket. Haggar stood up, and the click of her heels echoed off the empty room; she pulled down a diagram from over the white board, that thing was barely hanging on the wall. She pointed to a random point on the human body.

“Vastus lateralis.” There was barely a second that split the actions of the professor and his answer.

“I’m guessing that you’ve studied?” Haggar continued to different points on the body, seemingly not surprised at the speed of Keith’s answer.

“Yeah, something like that.” Keith could only imagine what he looked like at the end of the night; hair heavy with sweat, hickeys and bite marks littering his thighs and chest with Shiro looking over his handy work. His gray eyes glossing over the hardened drips and splatters of wax all over his smooth skin, like a skilled artist evaluating a piece of art at a gallery walk.  

“There is no reason for me to test you anymore, you may leave,” she said, almost like the tone of a scientist who is dismissing a subject from an experiment. Keith didn't reply. Just threw his bag back onto his shoulder and walked out; the test that he was stressing over for so long was don’t, just like that. The phone in his pocket buzzed when he started down the hall.

> _‘Pick up is coming in. Please be open. Hope you passed your exam ٩(_ :v _)و’_

Keith snorted when he looked over Shiro’s facial edition, he does try to lighten the mood with them.

> _‘Ye, kk, will be there’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this bet going down with Kay that if i don't get chapter 4 out before season 3 is released (August 4) I have to wear a thong, which is crazy cause I don't want anything touching my butt hole? Anyways, so thank Kay for these chapters that are coming out before then.
> 
> I also have a twitter, where I'm more active. I give updates on my writings and you can easily interact with me and if you want to beta this fic, just shoot me a PM @fangoround


	4. Parasite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, but when you cut yourself, you can count on it hurting like a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hi, I'm back. Yes I know I'm late, and yes I know I lost the bet, but I have a long ass chapter with more porn cause hey who doesn't like that shit? More updates on my life:
> 
> -colleggeeeeee
> 
> Yeah so that's it
> 
> Edit: I forgot to mention, but I created a floor plan for Lance and Pidges apartment! This site allows you to get a first person look into the basic layout and design of what I had in mind for their living space but the whole program only has a limited variety of furniture, so I filled the area with the basics.   
> https://www.homestyler.com/floorplan/?lang=en_US&assetId=ce1c9d2e-9a17-4c81-9c41-849e1bceaf0b

The room smelled like a mixture of 30 different perfumes and sweat. It was insulting to anyone that walked in, but this is the life that Lance lives. He heard many the whispers and the gossip within the class. How Amber and John were having a rough time with their son Andrew, who keeps ending up in the principal's office. Wanda got a breast augmentation last year, and she’s now thinking about tummy tuck or something. All these menial problems that floated around in their little world made him want to laugh. It did seem like God had his favorites.

The class ended more than 15 minutes ago, but many of the moms milled around the Lance, all asking him exhausting questions or sliding comments regarding a possible lunch together next week.

“Of course I could help out with Susie after this, you do what you need.” A mom with a high ponytail passed a phone into Lance’s hands. He should probably be more hesitant of giving his number to a bunch of thirsty bored moms, but what’s the big worry? What could they do to him, pass his phone onto some mob boss who will break his kneecaps?

“No, Martha! I swear, don’t try and give me money! Martha Grey, you are the worst.” He smiled as he joked with her. The rest of the group talked and laughed with him, commenting on how they wish their husbands were as suave as him and paid as much attention to them individually even when there was a whole class begging for him. Lance knew the ropes. He knew how to haggle the money from them nicely. A little outside work for them didn’t hurt a soul. More money for him and a happy customer means that they’d come back.

“Oh, Barb!” Lance managed to grab her attention before she left the room. “Make sure you keep up the stretches! You’ve improved so much.” Lance winked when he finished the sentence. He heard some jealous murmuring from a clique in the far back. Slowly the moms filtered out of the room till it was only him left. Martha left to get a start on her errands, and the ones asking for lunch later in the week were left with empty promises.  

His car—well Pidge’s car to be exact—was parked in some far off lot, mainly to avoid paying six dollars for a side job, but Lance convinced himself it’s to get a few extra steps into his day. It was not exactly the nicest or flashiest car; it was a bit beat up in the paint, and Lance was pretty sure there was a colony of wasps in the engine, but it worked. Most of the time. Being that it wasn’t his car, his knees could possibly kill him if he got in a crash and his head might go through the roof. Just more things for him to worry about.

He pulled out of the gravel-filled lot and headed out of the congested streets of the city to the high class, rich suburbs where white picket fences lined the edges of the evergreen lawns. The sun was just starting to reach the top of the pear-shaped trees, and the air was filled with mist from the neighbor’s sprinklers. It must be nice to not worry about throwing half the water to waste and having a bit of green grass year around.

Martha’s house—he’s hoping that she wrote her house number correctly—was something of the American Dream: shutters, a front porch with a swing, a cute little mailbox with their names hand-painted and their hand prints together. Everything here was too perfect. Even their flower bed was bordered with red bricks and brown mulch like it was straight out of some Better Homes magazine. Lance walked up the painted steps and stopped at the door. He was going to use the knocker before spotting a door bell.

 _Which one? Why do you need two? Do I use both? Is this some kind of sophistication test?_ He kept switching his gaze between the two before the door just opened up.

“Are you the replacement?” A squirrely looking girl answered the door. No wonder Martha wanted her out; Lance wouldn’t even trust her to watch over his fish. She seemed like that ditsy girl from across the street who everyone knew but didn’t really care for. Her hair was an absolute rat’s nest and tied in a messy braid. It wasn’t a soft looking mess like his roommate’s, it was a matted ‘I haven’t slept or washed in three days’ mess.

“Yeah, it’s only for the next hour. Martha needed to run some errands or something. Groceries or whatever.” Lance said as he walked in as the girl stepped to the side. The inside was clean, immaculate, almost in a creepy way. Like if someone was massacred in the house and the evidence needed to be stripped from the scene. He slid his shoes off and dropped his phone on the desk near the door.

“So, you’re on a first name basis with Mrs. Grey?” She said the name with a forced sneer. This girl could be dangerous if she wanted to. She knew things, but Lance couldn’t pin it down.

“I’m her yoga instructor, so yeah. First names with each other.” Lance looked around and walked into the downstairs den. It was filled with pictures of the family: baby pictures of Susie, one where she smiled a toothy grin, Martha and her father, or what he guessed was her father, every thing that made the family feel even more picture perfect. In the middle of the wall was a picture of Martha in a wedding dress; her train wrapped down the steps leading to the altar and her husband meeting her for a kiss. Another peek into their textbook life.

“Well, I’ll be leaving. Tell Mrs. Grey that Alison says ‘hi.’” She sounded almost like someone kicked her dog, angry and bitter to the core. Allison left without another word, not a peep on Susie’s last dose or when she ate anything. He took his phone and slid it into his back pocket, just in case of some wild chance that Martha needed to be notified that something happened.

The stairs were covered in fluffy white carpet, it made Lance want to roll all over its softness. Everything was so clean and white, Lance felt out of place, almost like if he touched anything he’d stain it.

“Ali?” there was a tiny croak from down the hall behind a closed door. What babysitter kept the kid's door closed? Lance pushed open the door a tiny bit, making sure not to startle the girl as she woke up.

“My name’s Lance, I'll be here till your mom gets back.” The girl looked absolutely drugged off her ass, probably due to some medication that Alison gave her.

“You know my Mama? Is she here?” Susie sat up a bit and blinked. Her hair had the worst case of cow lick Lance had ever seen and she looked like she ran a quarter marathon; her cheeks were flushed a deep scarlet and she probably was covered in a gallon of sweat.

“She’s getting some things from the store,” Lance whispered trying not to trigger a headache or something. Hell, the kid might have a headache for all he knew. “Are you hungry or something?” Susie nodded. “Do you wanna come downstairs with me?” Lance bent down near Susie and placed his hand on her forehead; she was burning hotter than their radiator during Christmas. She nodded again, and just grappled onto his outstretched hand.

Lance scooped her up from the tangle of flowery bed sheets and precariously walked downstairs. He silently prayed that he didn't trip and end up landing on top of someone’s 5-year-old child. She soon closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest.

“Do you want soup?” Susie shook her head on his chest, messing her hair up even more

“A sandwich?” There was a bit of thinking before she peeped out a silent ‘yes’.

“I wanna grilled cheese.” Lance set her on the kitchen island and she just dangled her feet over the cabinets. He hoped she had enough sense to not hurl herself off the high surface. The fridge was covered in notes for random shit: call an electrician, milk, eggs, kale, and spinach, dance recital 7:30 pm. He opened the doors and was amazed by the bright heavenly light of a full fridge. It was some high tech fridge of the future with lights and a steel finish, silent motor, ice machine and double doors.

“Where is all the stuff for the sandwiches?” he asked the girl. Susie pointed at the little drawer under one of the shelves. He pulled out stuff that might go in a sandwich for a kid: bread, cheese of all sorts, butter, mayo, ham, anything that might get some energy into that tiny body, and placed them on the counter.

“Mama doesn’t put that white stuff in,” Susie whispered just before Lance put a glob of mayo on to the bread. He wiped the mayo on the lip of the jar and pointed the knife towards the butter and looked at the girl for approval. She nodded, and Lance began making the sandwich.

“Do you see your dad a lot, Susie?” Lance tried to start up a conversation to make it less awkward between them. She shook her head as she let her heels hit the wooden cupboards.

“Mama says he’s in the desert fighting the bad guys.”

“Oh.” Lance dropped the subject quickly. “How ‘bout your mom, do you see her a lot?”

“At night I do. She works but sometimes she drives me to school and comes to my dance shows and takes me to parties, and we go to the parks with all the puppies...” She trailed off a bit as she got more and more excited about her mom. “But she was busy the other week. Ali was here all day and all night. I thought she was going to be my new mama.”

Lance put the sandwich on the stove as his phone rang. It was Pidge, and it was probably something important.

“Sup.” He put the phone to his ear and held it with his shoulder as he cleaned up the counter.

“Where are you? I need you for something.” Their voice sounded far off and muffled by the sound of a heavy fan.

“I’m watchin’ someone’s kid. What do you want shorty?” He pressed down on the bread with a spatula till he heard a telltale sizzle.

“Allura’s dong is ready. How long will you be a daycare?”

“Not long. ‘Til like noon?” He looked at the clock. It was still pretty early, and how long would groceries take anyways?

“Could you be a dear and pick it up for me?” Lance could almost see the flurry of blinks that would accompany a question like that.

“Do I have a choice?” He flipped the sandwich over and waited for an answer.

“No, I got to go. Say hi to the random turd for me.” Pidge hung up before Lance could get another word in.

“Was that my mama?” Lance tucked his phone into his back pocket and turned to the girl. He started fixing her cow-lick and the stray strands that dangled out of place.

“Nope, it was a friend telling me I had to get a present for someone.”

“What type of present?” Lance froze for a second before continuing to mess with the thin red strands.

“Uh, well it’s a surprise gift. But I’m sure she’ll be very happy with it?” Lance didn’t mean to end the sentence with a question but he doubt the kid noticed. He finished fixing the girls messy hair and checked on her food, pulling it from the stove before it could burn. He grabbed a knife and cut the sandwich into triangles and handed it to the child on some plate with animals all over it.

“Ali says I shouldn’t eat on this plate.” Susie eyed it before taking the plate into her lap.

“Well I’m not Ali, and I say you can.” Lance watched the girl start to eat the slices. This was probably the first meal she had since last night, despite it being 9 in the morning; another good reason to replace Alison with a more responsible sitter.

Susie finished the whole thing despite her size, almost like Pidge would after a hard day’s work of whatever they do behind closed doors. Well, it must be something to do with them staying up all night and eating only when there is food available, which can be a rare occasion.

“OK so now what do we do, Susie? TV? Nap time? Coloring?” Lance put the plate in the dishwasher and picked the girl up off the counter. She clung to his neck when he tried to put her on the ground; her feet barely hung past his waist and she just dangled like dead weight.

She giggled as Lance tried to walk around, her body swinging with each step, and he broke his slight frown for a laugh. She still clung on tight as he made his way up the stairs, holding onto the handrails making sure he doesn't lose his balance.

“Oh come onnn.” Lance stopped at the top of the stair and looked down at the girl. She was just hanging, knees bent and the largest grin a tired, feverish kid could muster. He lifted her up and she giggled some more as he stuck his tongue out, she followed his expression.

“Do you wanna bath?” He finally decided after they both pulled as many funny faces as they could. She nodded as she finally let go of his neck. She ran down the hall into the bathroom and waited for him, and when he met her at the door, Susie was already dropping floaty stuff into the empty tub.

“OK, do you want bubbles?” Lance said as he rolled up his sleeves, a bottle of chemically pink liquid in hand.

“Yes, you silly.” Susie seems almost too excited for a bath. He turned on the faucet, adjusted the temp to make sure he didn’t scold her skin and plugged the drain. Susan jumped into the tub before it was filled, sending a wave of water to hit Lance, covering him in the flower smelling water.

He poured shampoo on her tangled locks and rubbed her scalp. Lance started to hum as foam started to cover her hair.

“What do you do, Mr. Lance?”

“Well, I’m your Mama’s Yoga instructor.” Lance tilted the girl’s head back as he rinsed the bubbles from her hair.

“Yoga?” she gave him a confused look and cocked her head to the side.

“Kinda like stretching.”

“Like the tumbling class, my Mama takes me to?” Before Lance could answer, the sound of an opening door echoed up from the front door.

“MAMA!” Susie shot up, causing another splash to hit Lance. She clambered out of the tub, and almost slipped onto her face. She was already down the hall by the time Lance had a towel in hand.

“There’s my little girl! I’ve missed you so much!!” Lance walked downstairs to see Martha hugging the girl to her chest, her clothes slowly soaking up the bubbly water off her kid’s skin. He stood back, not wanting to interrupt the reunion.

“Did Lance give you a bath?” Martha buried her nose into the girl's wet hair. “And you let him wash your hair? What a good girl!”

“And he made me a grilled cheese.” Martha smiled at Lance and extended her hand out for the towel. He watched as she wrapped the kid into the over-sized towel—the girl now buried in the fabric—was passed her back to Lance.

“I can make you coffee or something, it’s the least I could do,” Martha said as she picked up some of the groceries from the floor.

“That would be great, I’ll just put her down for a nap.” Lance started rubbing off the girls soaked strands as he turned towards the stairs. He was drained, and he didn’t even watch the girl for that long. Susie wasn’t far from him as well, her face mellowed out as the last bit of the medication set in. By the time she was in her pajamas, she was out, dead to the world.

Lance threw the damp towel into a laundry basket down the hall and crept downstairs, only the sound of his feet hitting the carpeted stairs.

“Thank you so much for doing this for me Lance.” He was greeted with the smell of fresh coffee. Martha poured the drink into a tall mug and placed some creamer and sugar onto the counter next to it. A few bags remained on the counter, all empty as their contents were being put away.

“No problem, Martha. She was a dream to watch over.” Lance wished his siblings were as easy as her. God, they were a rowdy bunch; screaming, and running around, and to think that he used to watch over five. Martha opened the fridge and placed some items inside before turning to Lance.

“It’s just been hard. Being a single mother and all.” Martha sighed and leaned on the counter next to him. “Everyone around here is nice, but they feel suffocating. If you understand what I’m getting at.” Lance took a small sip from the mug, just listening to the other’s voice.

“I’m sure you’ll pull through.” Lance placed the mug down, “Before you know it, your husband will be back and all will be well.” There wasn’t a word from Martha, just the sound of them breathing. She rested her head on her shoulder before saying anything.

“But what if he doesn’t come back? It’s been months since we heard anything, and I’m running out of things to say to everyone.” He couldn't say anything, he didn’t know what to say. Martha’s hand trailed off the counter and rested on his thigh.

“But I don’t have to say anything about this,” she said as she nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the smell of his knock-off cologne. Lance froze up and could barely get the coffee down. It turned more and more bitter in the back of his throat as she continued her advances.

“You said no money. I don’t believe this is money, now is it?” Martha brought up Lance’s own words as she dragged her hands down his chest. Lance grabbed them before they could go further.

“I can’t accept this ‘payment’,” Lance whispered, not wanting to raise his voice. It was a delicate situation, to say the least, he just wanted to get some extra bucks and leave.

“I insist, Lance.” She sat on to the island counter, spreading her legs lewdly. Martha looked up through her eyelashes, daring Lance to step closer and take her offer. He just stood there. He wanted to just turn and leave, just go back to his life of leaving empty promises. She leaned over and placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder, slowly drawing him in.

He finally stepped forward. A hand ran up her thigh, feeling the nylon fabric stretch with every shift as she took off her top. Lance’s mind didn’t react to Martha pulling him into a kiss. His mind was beyond blank, every movement and action was automatic. From him pulling her sports bra up, allowing her breasts to fall out from under its restraints, to his hand slipping to her back, fiddling with the band of her leggings.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Lance whispered as he watched Martha’s blond hair fall from her hair tie.

“But you are, and I bet you’ve dreamt of this moment.” Lance didn’t, he never had, but her voice was convincing enough. “I see the way you act around Amber and Jennifer. Flirt with Jackie and handle Heather.” Martha lead Lance’s other hand to her breast, inhaling to allow it to fit into his cupped hands. “How you ran your hands up my body during our first class together.”

Lance’s hand guided the top of her leggings down past the curve of her ass with the help of Martha maneuvering on the granite surface. This was beyond wrong; this made him feel like he was stealing from their lives. Stealing attention from the people that need it, leeching from them like a parasite.

He felt lips kiss up his neck, and hands lead his shirt up his chest, bringing the two skin to skin. Lance felt her legs wrap around his hips. She pulled him in closer to her heat, keeping Lance from backing out.

“See Lance,” Martha’s voice was above a whisper, but every heavy breath that he heard, brought goosebumps to his skin, “it’s not that hard to accept a gift.” Her hands long since slipped from his grasp, continued to coax Lance to his full hardness, from light trails of her nails down his stomach to her hands slipping into his pants.

Lance felt his skin jump when she finally took hold of his dick, and he was sure she felt his reaction. She gave it a few soft tugs, as she looked up at Lance with a smirk on her face, watching his eyes drift shut. Lance finally made a conscious move towards her; moving his hand from her breast down to the front of her panties. He hesitated for a bit, before sliding the strip cloth to the side, exposing her to the open air. She was wetter than he anticipated, her folds glistened, and it covered his fingers as he slid two into her. Martha sucked in a breath, and bucked her hips, trying to get him to go deeper. Lance plunged his fingers into Martha in time with her tugs, both lightly moaning in unison.

“Just do it, Lance.” Marth pulled Lance’s fingers out of her opening and shimmied his pants till his erection was free. She inched herself closer to the edge of the counter. Lance tried to pull back from her tempting warmth, eyeing her warily.

“I’m clean if that's what you're wondering,” Martha said, grabbing his arm as he tried to turn away. “And I’ve been tied. You’re safe Lance.” He followed her pull but avoided looking at her face. He saw every wrong step in her gaze. He knew how this will all follow; she’s going to keep calling him back, thinking that this will become a thing, he needed to shut that down before it happened.

“This is a one-time thing, no more samples after this.” Lance couldn’t deal with a relationship built on a scandal. She didn’t reply, just let out a held breath as he pushed into her. Lance felt her warmth stretch around him, enveloping him in a slick wetness. It was breathtaking, it made Lance double over, resting his head on Martha’s bare shoulder. She wasn’t far off from his reaction, she leaned back, eyes half closed as she relished the feeling of fullness.

His hips faltered as he tried to thrust in, bring himself more into her welcoming folds. Lance’s weight pushed Martha back further, till her back rested on the cold granite, allowing more control over his movements. Her legs started to release its grip on Lance’s hips, slowly spreading them.  The kitchen filled with their breathy moans, as they chased the feeling of ecstasy, but was soon interrupted by the clatter of ceramic.  The once hot liquid splashed onto the surrounding area, covering the wooden cabinets and even reaching Lance’s feet.

“Hey. Hey!” Martha grabbed hold of Lance's jaw when he turned his attention to the spill on the floor, “keep your eyes on me.”

 

* * *

 

Lance grabbed his pants, pulling them over his hips. Martha sat up, letting Lance’s mess seep into her panties, before sighing with content. He stepped over the shattered mug, not even bidding a farewell to Martha, or a thought about collecting his payment.

Lance got in his car. A film of disgust covered his skin as he looked back at the once picturesque family. He jammed the key into the ignition, and pulled out onto the street, knowing he did leave a stain on their immaculate, white lives.

Driving back into the familiar cramped streets of the city was a relief. The city welcomed him back, even if he reeked of his affair in the high-class life. He knew the streets and their signatures, their potholes and oddly placed stop signs. Each was a member of a dysfunctional family.

Lance pulled up to the familiar store front, the snow gone, leaving a clear sidewalk full of milling strangers. They walked with a purpose, all following the quick paced flow of a professional job; ears glued to their phones as they scurried off to their next meeting to talk about some bullshit proposal in some far off land. They were so focused on their own little lives, not even giving a glance to the stores they were passing and their possible contents.

It was weird seeing the store in the daylight; all its neon signs were off, making it look like an abandoned building. Lance walked up the front door and pulled at the handle. Nothing. He tried again, before looking at the letters on the door. _Open: 2pm-2am._ He put his forehead to the window to see if anyone was milling around inside. He wasn’t going to buy anything, just a pickup, and he was pretty sure that bratty bastard wouldn’t mind. The interior was dark and it looked locked down.

Lance shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked off; just another inconvenience to this mess of a day. He slowly followed the flow of the busy sidewalk but didn’t follow their pace. Shoulders bumped into him from time to time, not a word of an apology as they disappeared back into the masses. Many accumulated at the street corner, and Lance stepped to join them.

He heard talks of meetings and stocks, boring stuff in his opinion. They all flooded the crosswalk, before dispersing their own way on the other side. Lance glanced down at his phone before he turned into a coffee shop. It was mostly filled with beanies and pastel hair, with some person in the corner playing a song on their guitar. He and Pidge always passed by the windows, always taking a peek inside, but never took the step into some place with overpriced hipster coffee.

The menu was painted on wooden pallets, and the letters painted in cute clean writing, alternating between white and black. Lance scanned over the extensive amount of choices, before walking up to the counter. The girl behind the counter was wearing thick rimmed glasses, and freckles dotted her button nose.

“Hi, I’ll get a medium caramel frozen, extra cream and drizzle.” He said as he looked up, making sure he was correct. The girl, Nyma, smiled at him when he looked down. Her hair was tied into two long golden braids, both hung over her chest, nearly covering her name tag. Her roots started to grow back to its natural brown, to match her eyebrows.

“Is that all?” She tapped on the screen before looking back at him.

“Yup, that’s it.” Lance blanked out as the girl went over a scripted speech on offers of their exclusive rewards card, where you get something like a free espresso shot when you joined.

“OK, so your total is $4.99, you can go ahead and swipe when ready.” Lance swiped his card then shoved it back into his overfilled wallet. A receipt was handed to him without another word from Nyma. He took a seat at one of the window seats, allowing him to watch the busy bees pass by him. It was peaceful inside the little hipster bubble. The indistinct conversations were nothing more than a hum to drown out invading thoughts and the passing of time.

It wasn’t long before some seedy looking waiter came out with some over the top cup with whipped cream peeking over the rim of the cup. They don’t mess around with your request extra anything. Lance dipped his finger into the cream and sucked the sweetness off, enjoying the taste of caramel wash over the bitterness of his previous drink. The clear cup was decorated with swirls of the golden syrup, and more was rippled throughout the drink, promising him some much-needed sugar.

Lance continued to sit at the window as the sun climbed higher into the sky, watching how the steady stream of suits turn to a mass of youths, many heading into the coffee shop to meet others or into the residential buildings that dotted the area. The small talk around him turned into the sound of the students reviewing notes for an upcoming test and laughing at inside jokes. It made Lance envy them; envy their drive and that sparkle in their eyes, like they found their purpose in life. He continued to sip the iced drink, listening into their lives and relishing in the feelings that he once shared with them.

He checked his watch from time to time, watching the hand race and lap the other many times throughout his sitting before anything interesting happened. The sound of a deep, throaty rumble peaked the interest of many of the coffee goers; their heads swiveled to the window, watching as a cherry red bike raced down the street, swerving in and out of the lanes of traffic. Lance joined the on looking, watching the mechanical beast dodge and ignore the honks of the others it shared the road with. The rider wore a black helmet, its blacked out visor hid any expression or hint of their identity. Heads turned and followed the source of the sound as it passed the cafe front. Lance could see the glass vibrate with every growl that came from the crotch rocket as if it was sending a challenge out to everyone in the area. _Go ahead, try me, and see what happens._

The rider and the bike pulled up just outside a music shop, located next door. The snarls turned to silence, and everyone turned back to their activities, leaving Lance to stare alone. The ride sat up straight, the riding leathers clung to their body, accentuating a slim build. Lance mouthed at the straw, attempting to get it back into his mouth to continue consuming his drink. The rider unfastened their gloves, revealing boney fingers. Lance studied every part making up a story for the mystery person.

They were a bad boy, running away from their overbearing father, who wanted them to follow in the prestigious family business. They had five siblings, all of which were shining examples of what they should be, but they were the black sheep of the family. Maybe they had a tongue piercing or a few tattoos hidden under their jacket. They most definitely listened to music that could blow out an eardrum but indulged in vanilla shakes at the local diner.

Lance waited with bated breath, wanting to add more to his story with more reveals of the riders face. Their milky white hand came up and started to pull the helmet off. Strands of black peeked out under the padding and more joined it when the headgear was fully removed. The rider flicked their hair with their free hand, wiping the sweat from their skin, before looking around.

It was Keith. Lance quickly turned away as he looked around. Lance just stared at the near empty cup, waiting for Keith to turn back around. It was embarrassing, seeing someone that you hit on out and about, living a life that you haven’t touched. Lance turned his head slightly and side eyed the area. He was passing by the window, helmet underarm, stalking against the flow of his age group. His hair clung to the nape of his neck; he was probably a boiling mess under all that black.

Keith stood at the crosswalk, just staring straight ahead. He continued across the street and practically disappeared in a crowd, the only sign of him was a speck of black in a world of color. He stepped into the shop, leaving the rush behind him. Lance took a look at his watch again when the door closed behind Keith. _2:06._ Lance took long sips from the emptying glass; it was mostly watery coffee, with a mix of warm cream. He waited and just stared at the blacked out windows, biding his time.

He stood up a few minutes later. He left a few stray bucks under the cup for the waiter and picked his way through the crowded shop and its chair-blocked walk ways. He followed Keith’s foot steps, across the cracked asphalt and gum covered concrete. The shop was empty, just like his previous visit.

“I’m just here to pick up a delivery.” Lance wandered further into the shop, looking for the sweat ball of black hair. He was sitting on the ground with a scanner in hand, putting new items on the shelves.

“Yeah yeah, give me a moment,” Keith mumbled some more under his breath as he put more wax candles on display. Lance sat down next to him, allowing his long legs to extend out, and rest his head on one of the shelves. The cold metal bit into his back, and he observed Keith’s careful hands. He changed out of his black riding leathers and sat in some loose jeans, which seemed a bit big for his waist, and some gray shirt with some faded lettering. Lance didn’t expect anything less than this from a person like Keith.

“So, uh,” Lance started out, mostly out of boredom. “Your exams. They started right?” The machine in his hand spit out more labels.

“Yeah, I have one more next week then it’s done,” Keith said, putting the stickers on the bottom of the candles. Silence fell between them again.

“Do you think you passed?”

“Well, I got some—” there was a bit of hesitation from Keith, “—help from Shiro last night. I’m hoping it was enough. How about you? You look like you might be in college.”

“Nah, I haven’t been in for…a few years now. I think.” Lance got up when Keith finished the pile. His knees popped as he stretched.

“You’re here for the dildo, right?” Keith asked as he adjusted his slipping jeans. They slid down as soon as he pulled them up. “It should be in the back. Just wait here.” Keith shrugged past Lance. He disappeared into the back room leaving Lance to wait in the empty shop front. He strolled down the fully stocked aisles, looking at the multitude of flavored lubes, and ropes. It was a surreal moment, imagining all the possible ways these could be used.

“Yeah, got it here,” Keith’s voice caught Lance’s attention. He set a box onto the counter and opened it up.

“OK, inside there is a free sample of the lube and jizz.” Keith put two small vials on to the surface, one was clear and the other was a goopy white color.

“What are you doing?” Lance stared as Keith dug further into the styrofoam peanuts and pulled it out.

“I have to give an instructional demonstration because you don’t know how many times we get people calling us back with questions. Please, bear with me.” He unraveled a plastic tube and held it up.

“There is a pump inside the box, plug one end into the white shit, and then put this tube,” Keith waved the tube connected to the dildo, “into the pump. I’m not gonna do it because it's going to make a mess. You push the button and the synthetic jizz will flow like the fountain of youth.”

“So what did you get?” Keith asked as he started to put the items back into the box.

“Excuse me?”

“In college, did you get an associate or something? You’re pretty young, so I don't think you got anything higher”  

“Oh well, I dropped out.” Keith blinked at Lance’s response. He paused half way through taping the box shut, before continuing again.

“The classes were just,” Lance moved his hand in circles, “you know, meh. I didn’t see the need for it, so I just quit and job hopped ever since.”

“Oh, Shiro thought you had some talent or something, but I guess he was wrong. He doesn’t have time to waste on unmotivated drop outs like you” Lance didn’t say anything, just watching Keith’s face change when he realized what he said.

“I didn’t—I just—” Keith started out, but Lance’s heart already sank to his gut. “I’m sorry.” He pushed the closed box towards. Lance took it and held it under his arm, waiting to see if there was anything else he wanted. It wasn’t like anyone doesn’t think this when he talks about his education.

“We’ve, well mostly Shiro, have a lot on the plate recently, I didn’t mean-”

“I guess I’ll leave then.” Lance turned before Keith could get another word out. Glances were exchanged before he sulked towards the door.

 

* * *

 

Lance unlocked the apartment door and smelled something burning. It could be food or an electronic component, both were a concern. He threw his keys onto the counter and sat at one of the bar stools.  

“Why so glum?” Pidge said as they poured a can’s contents into a small pot. The source of the smell became more apparent the longer Lance sat in silence.

“Do you think,” Lance started trying to grab his roommate’s, “I’m not ‘worth the effort’?” Pidge turned and looked at lance, who had his head bowed and his hands resting on the tiled counter. He didn’t say anything more, allowing the question to sink its teeth into the situation. Their expression softened when they leaned over the counter and rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

“What happened?” Pidge’s voice reminded Lance of his mother when he would come home all bruised and bloodied from school.

“Keith said some shit, you know, and yeah,” Lance’s throat started to suffocate him, making the tears more apparent even if he tried to hold them back.  

“Do I need to whoop ass?”

“Please don’t, I’ll be OK.” Lance lied for the nth time today. There wasn’t a need to involve another person in his messy life habits. He wiped his face with the back of his hands and took a deep breath, trying to gain some control over his emotions. This wasn’t the first time something like this happened, and he doubt it was the last; who was Lance to say that his life was going to go perfect from this point on.

“Do you agree with him?” Pidge said as they pulled the pot off the heat. Two plates were put out, and toast was covered with the heated beans. They both tucked into the meal silently before Lance answered.

“So what if I do?” Lance didn't look up from staring at his plate, not raising his voice from a tiny mutter.

“Found this in the bedroom. Thought you might need it. You could give it a try.” They both looked at each other before Pidge produced a slip of long forgotten paper from their pocket.

Lance took the paper from their possession. It’s been a while, he thought the paper was long gone, in the trash or in their nasty old vacuum, but here it is, ghosts that have not been laid to rest. The ink was nearly beyond legible, a couple more days and this opportunity would be off the table.

“Do I have a choice?”

“This time, you do. But don’t get all pissy when I bring up you not doing anything to get a better job.” They continued to eat their less than appetizing meal while Lance thought over his options. It would be a change of pace to his life. A moment of security and he wouldn’t be the one in the wrong. It was an invitation, an open ended fling with no hurt feelings, and a chance to prove a point to that hot-head.

“Fine,” Lance said, looking up suddenly, “I’ll do it.” He stood up and walked away from his half cleared plate, leaving Pidge to finish on their own. He picked his phone from his jacket and paced when he entered the privacy of his room. He fiddled with the paper, rubbing his fingers over the light indents of that was left by a pen. Lance felt his palms start to sweat. Maybe the heater was too high, or his body rejecting the meal.

The numbers stared at Lance every time he looked down to read them. The loops of the O’s, the drags of the shaky pen and the wonky ‘S’ at the beginning of the sentence, everything was written in haste.

Lance listened to the chirps of the numbers as his finger touched the screen, and brought it to his ear. There was just the hum of other end, each one bringing more sweat to his palms.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end said.

“Hey,” Lance began, trying not to stumble over his own words, “it’s Lance.”

“Oh, Lance!” There was a hint of surprise in Shiro’s voice. Maybe they did give up to me. “What can I do for you?”

Lance froze with his mouth open. This could be some elaborate ploy, to chew him up and spit him out when he was of no use, just like Martha. He felt his fears creep into his throat, choking him out of the conversation

“Your offer. Is it still on the table?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been the longest chapter I've written in years? Like the longest one before this was 10,000 words of stuff, but that was when I wrote on Wattpad, and I don't look back on that. It's an unfinished fic cause I lost it when my computer crashed. This chapter is nearly as long (6,993), and it's actually really close to my 7k estimate. It might have been longer if I fully wrote out the porn.  
> Again, I'm more active on Twitter, so go ahead and follow me if you want to hear me rant about work and post pics of my dog. https://twitter.com/fangoround  
> So yeah, I'll try and get two more chapters out by season 4, but no promises.  
> Also, thank you, Kay, for editing most of this chapter, when I asked. She is an absolute boo. She some how thought I was going to have Lance give the kids some cold ass butter sandwich like I dislike kids, I don't want to torture them. She's helped quite a lot with my writing and giving me some will-power to continue, without her, this chapter wouldn't even be typed out.


End file.
